The Pelican

Part 5

Tallahassee handed Nassrin's keys to the valet and walked the stunning Nassrin Fahadi into the beachside ballroom. Nassrin wore a black gown with gold epaulets at the shoulders. The fabric sparkled like the crystal ornaments hung from the Douglas firs scattered about the room. It was couture according to Isabelle. The gown came straight from the New York design house she used for all her galas and was now tailored for Nassrin's beautiful curves. Nassrin tried to pay for Tallahassee's rented tuxedo, but he insisted on footing the bill and now dazzled her with the Men's Wearhouse upgraded package.

They arrived at The Pelican thirty minutes before the doors opened for the annual Christmas party so that Isabelle could walk Nassrin through the set for the shoot. Nassrin perched on a barstool and leaned in to hear Isabelle deliver instructions to a Le Creme de Gilbert reporter and her cameraman. The set took advantage of the Pelican's columns that soared to twenty feet before curving to greet one another in magnificent arches. The oversized checkerboard tile original to the hotel continued from the ballroom to the terrace beyond. All of it framed a moody ocean and clear sky where soon the sun would drop ripples of orange, red and pink like paint on a canvas.

Ronald gripped Tallahassee's hand and beamed when Tallahassee matched the force in Ronald's handshake. "I've heard a lot about you, son," said Ronald. Nassrin tensed at hearing Ronald's lie. She hadn't told anyone at Ocean Hospital anything about him. What could she say? Tallahassee lives in a college town serving alcohol to drunk college kids. He specializes in Spring Break.

Isabelle took Nassrin by the elbow and led her away from Ronald and Tallahassee. Isabelle wore a golden gown with a plunging neckline. The sleeveless V-neck accentuated her impossibly youthful deltoids. They had been sprayed a warm honey tone with an airbrush owned by a mobile sunless tanning that Nassrin had declined to trial, since her skin was already significantly darker than Isabelle's. To conceal the wrinkles on Isabelle's chest, she wore a bold pelican pendant. She and Nassrin cinched their waists with matching chiffon belts she found at the Third Avenue Bloomingdale's in New York. She explained to Nassrin the belts brought their look to the next level.

Once the details of the photoshoot were settled and Nassrin was satisfied Ronald hadn't learned the truth about her boyfriend, they left the bar in search of her colleagues. Tallahasse linked his arm with Nassrin's and steered her into the party already in full swing. Nassrin spotted Tom and his wife chatting with Opal and her husband. The room was buzzing with doctors of all types, some of whom she recognized. The grouping of physicians outside the walls of the hospital disrupted the normal hierarchy that existed on the wards. Within the context of the hospital, interventional radiologists like Fox Collins reigned supreme. Also at the top and arguably more popular were the interventional cardiologists. Anyone doing anything that involved intervening was sexy. The surgeons had their appeal, with their jocular swagger and bragging rights to saving lives with the swipe of a scalpel. The brain surgeons could have been unrivaled, except there was only one and he was socially inept. Also, he smelled like mothballs. The gastros were cool although a bit intellectual, especially considering their business was at the business end of the gastrointestinal tract. At the bottom were the hospitalists like Nassrin. Clinging to their Sherlock Homes diagnostic prowess as the foundation of their skill set, they were the worker bees of the wards and could make the hospital run as efficiently as the engines in their sports cars. Or they could bring the hospital to a grinding halt. The hospitalists enjoyed the luxury of the doctor-patient relationship. They enjoyed spending time with their patients whether they were over worked, under paid, mediators of the specialists, manipulated by the emergency department or scutted for paperwork.

Outside the hospital, the hierarchy was completely dependent on the guests' attire. Nassrin scanned the crowd comparing Tallahassee's borrowed ensemble to the ubiquitous black sport coats filling the room. He would blend in here, she told herself. No one would know who he was. The men all looked the same in their suits; the difference being that some carried a bulky black pager clipped to their belt and held tumblers filled with soda rather than scotch. The women provided a much wider variety for comparison. Her eyes lit on every level of dress from ballgowns to low cut cocktail dresses to the frumpy woman who made the unfortunate choice to wear baggy slacks and those sneakers with the big rubber soles. The kind of shoe designed to tone your bottom as you made your hospital rounds.

"Would you get me and Opal a glass of white wine?" Nassrin asked. "I want to brag about you behind your back." She winked, sending Tallahassee back to the bar to wait in the drink line. After greeting Nassrin's friends, he obliged and left the group.

"Nassrin, he's gorgeous," marveled Opal. "How could you allow such a pretty face in the boxing ring?"

"A boxer?" asked Tom. "I didn't know you were dating a martial artist. You know, I used to do some street fighting when I was a boy." Wanda chuckled and smacked his arm.

"What does he do?" asked Fox, inspecting Tallahassee from across the room.

"Well," explained Nassrin. But before she could answer, Karen and Bill joined the group, boisterous with holiday cheer. Bill had a collection of glassware stems weaved through his fingers and handed everyone a glass of wine or a martini. He whooped and threw back his martini.

"Are you all talking about Nassrin's boy toy?" asked Karen. She narrowed her eyes at Tallahassee who was deep in an animated conversation with the bartender. "Nassrin, tell us what it is he does."

"Well, as you know, he lives in Tallahassee," Nassrin started.

Ronald and Isabelle joined the group and spines visibly straightened. Nassrin found a table and abandoned the wine glass Bill gave her, making room for the drink she had sent him for. Karen was trying to coax Ronald into announcing who he had chosen for medical director, but Ronald cut her off when Tallahassee began approaching.

"There's your man!" exclaimed Ronald. Tallahassee was weaving his way through the throng of people. "Now that guy looks like someone we could use at Doctors Inc. I could tell by his handshake," Ronald said. Nassrin inched back, watching intently as Tallahassee drew closer. "What department can I put him in, Nassrin? Is he a doctor? Accounting? Should I put him on the Board of Directors?"

Karen cackled. Nassrin panicked. "He's a lawyer!" she exclaimed.

"Okay, we can put him in legal, then."

Nassrin tried to slow her breathing. Tallahassee had reached the group, and she turned, grabbing his face and planting a kiss. "There you are, honey," she said. "Let's step out and get some air."

"You know," Ronald said. "We were just talking about you, son. Isabelle, what if Le Creme de Gilbert does a side piece on him and Nassrin?" Ronald looked up and framed his vision with his hands. "The power couple. Son, are you up for a photoshoot tonight?"